The Start
by MsJadeSilver
Summary: Not everyone joins the Dark Brotherhood of their own accord. Some are... Recruited. Rated Mature for blood/murder/violence
1. Chapter 1

It's much too dark for sight, the air is cold, and the wind chills my very bones. But my heart beats harshly, a distant drum deep within my chest, begging, screaming for me to finish the job. The warm fire can be seen from the open window, a foul mistake for a citizen to make, especially on this night. I peer in through the well-lit crack to spy a couple in their fur-lined bed, sleeping soundly, their small child in a miniature duplicate bed not ten feet from theirs, snoring lightly. There was a bruise planted on his face, a strong hand had struck him tonight.

_Simple_. Aside from the guard animal they have placed beside their door. His slobbering maw is gaping at me, his tongue hanging from his mouth, drool dripping like a faucet onto the wood porch. I gaze into his unknowing eyes, and reach to pet him, he accepts the gesture gladly._ Stupid people_. There is no point in having a guard dog when it has been taught to love humans, and treat them as master. His face is friendly and loyal, he presses his face lovingly into my hand. I almost consider leaving without including him as a casualty. No, he will have to be dealt with. There is never a reason to leave the job undone.

Quickly, I grip his mangled, filthy scruff and slice my blade through his neck, surprise leaps into his eyes, but soft gurgles from his gaping wound reveal that his pain will be over in moments. Laying him down onto the porch, his blood pools around his still-twitching body, soaking the wood with a crimson varnish, and my heart only beats quicker, the time is near. His death is only the first tonight, and time cannot be spared relishing an easy victory.

Abandoning the canine corpse at the door, I pick the lock and slip in. The bolt has been greased recently, the owners probably grew tired of the horrible creaking noise it made when they opened and closed the door. _How wonderfully simple._ I viewed the beautiful intricacies of the door frame, it held the family's name and carvings of various contract had said he was a carpenter, and it showed by the way the house looked on the inside, and the outside. The floorboards were sturdy and well-placed, I marveled as to why not a creak could be heard as I padded my way over to his bedside table. I wiped the dog's blood from my dagger with one of the shirts he kept in the drawers, readying it for a new victim. He wouldn't be needing it after tonight anyway.

The bed was made with fine wood, he probably cut the tree down himself by the way he was built, he was a massive nord, muscles crowned his lightly heavyset body. He slept on his back, his throat was cleanly shaven and open for my blade. My hand twitched as I ran my hand over the cold ebony blade, it's hunger, and mine burning holes into the backs of my eyes.

Slowly, I inch the blade to glide over his throat, and rest the edge on the pulsing artery on the other side. My chest aches from how much my heart pounds, I wonder if he would be able to hear it if he was awake. My blade bounces, matching the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. I tightly grip the leather binds on the handle and slash the sharpened blade across his thick neck, and his eyes burst open, much like the gash in his throat. The gurgling noises he makes rouse his wife, but she does not recognize the sound and shoves her face down into the furs, irritated. I can't help but let a smile cross my face as his body struggles for a moment, until he becomes still, his dark blue eyes slowly losing their light, until they are glazed over with the presence of death. My heart stops as I enjoy the scene in front of me, my stomach churns delightfully as his blood seeps onto her side of the bed, waking his sleeping spouse yet again.

"Wh… what" I whip my blade into her throat just as I had done with the man and his dog, she sluggishly turns to meet her mate, tears well in her eyes as she clings to her departed husband, her life-blood and his blending wonderfully between them. I let out the breath I had been holding all this time, the heavy, rusty scent of blood floods my nostrils as I replace the air in my famished lungs. I only get a moment to clean my blade again on the wench's lifeless body before I remember the small child in the bed across the room.

He is resting on his side, he has his tiny arms wrapped around a small, handmade carving of a bear, most likely a gift from his father. I glance back at the dead couple that lie soaked in their bed, then back at the sleeping boy.

"You're lucky, child." I leave a small satchel filled with food and gold I had procured for this particular child, just as Mother had requested, along with a note containing a small rhyme.

* * *

Sweet child of the newly dead

Awaken to a world of red

Take arms beside your darkest brother

In time return

To your Night Mother

* * *

I smiled, knowing the fear that would envelop the child when he woke to the smell. The smell I had woken up to twenty years ago in a house not unlike this one. The

I left as quietly as I had come, noticing the sun begin to rise. I waited in a nearby grove for an hour, time went slowly as the scent from the house grew stronger.

When I heard the blood-curdling scream, I went on my way.


	2. Chapter 2

_Fifteen years later..._

__"Bryn! The freak killed his mark again!" Vex's hissing voice echoing through the cistern. I felt myself duck my head, for I had failed my duties, and was really upset and ashamed of myself. Vex's screaming drew the attention of everyone in the cistern, possibly even the Flagon next door, but this was not news to them after my previous mistakes.

"Kale..." Brynjolf had been my mentor since I arrived in Skyrim all those years ago, and I had been doing my best to stay true to his teachings. I was a thief, not a bandit... Yet the feeling of taking a life with my blade felt... well, not as wrong as everyone made it seem.

"I know." I huffed, Brynjolf's brows furrowed angrily.

"No, I really don't think you do. This has been the third time you've killed a mark, at least that we know of, and this is not how we do business." Brynjolf's tone slowly grew sad. His brow softened.

"Mercer... says you have one last chance. There's an imperial carriage traveling to the outskirts of Skyrim, delivering expensive armor, weapons, and gold. I need you to intercept that carriage and take the goods back into Skyrim, and back here. And... no killing. I need you to stave your hand this time, Kale. I don't want to have to... banish you." I would have said something then, but the tired, almost teary look in my mentor's eyes stopped me dead.

"I really couldn't handle losing you, Kale. You've been... Like a younger brother to me." My heart sank. I had never really been one to express myself, even to Bryn. Since I was a kid, growing up in the Riften orphanage, then escaping, I found myself becoming distant from everyone else, never sharing a laugh, nor shedding a tear. Not until Brynjolf found me and taught me the trade, I had always looked up to him, like he had said, he was my big brother too.

"I know, Bryn. I won't muck it up this time. No killing." I handed Brynjolf my blade. Bryn tried to hand it back, but I didn't accept. "I can't take it. I don't want to even think about it." Brynjolf nodded and went on his way to the other side of the cistern. He didn't look back.

I lost no time, packed a few supplies and left the Ratway, Vex hissing as I walked past her. I sneered in her direction and quietly slipped through the door. "Would you like to buy some cheap mead?" An elf walked by trying to sell his boss's stolen mead on the cheap, I spat in his direction, I would have none of it, I grit my teeth as I passed the elf, Maven would surely kill him eventually.

I knew the secrets held between Maven Black-Briar and the Guild, that though she acted as advisor to the Jarl of Riften, she also helped lead the Band of thieves she had promised to exterminate. I didn't really have an opinion about Maven, well none that I shared openly. I supposed that deep down, perhaps she was just as fucked up as I was on the inside. Maybe it wasn't fear of death that kept me from buying the mead, maybe it was a sick mixture of pity and respect that I held specially for her.

As I left Riften, I couldn't help but feel a wave of emotion sweep over me. The place I had called my home for so many years could be one stab away from lost to me. I wish Bryn could understand. I wish he could understand my starving need to leave someone broken and bloody, to let my blade taste someone's flesh. I had hunted with my father when I was young, the smell of blood wasn't unknown to me, but animals were never enough. Even then, as a child, the animal's dying breath didn't sate my thirst.

Vex caught me in my first blunder. My first kill. We were on a job, stealing jewelry and fine clothes in some posh house in Solitude. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until the owner showed up and caught me rifling through his safe, he shouted and threatened to call the guard. I didn't know what to do, I was scared of going to prison, and scared of being caught. So I shoved my blade into his throat. I stood there, watching him die, and a cool rush went through my body like a dam breaking. The way his blood gushed from his open neck, the way he choked on his own blood as it dripped from his mouth, the way his eyes faded in front of me before I let him drop to the floor.

It would have been wonderful, if Vex hadn't have been with me. She screamed, something about 'me smiling about a mark's death, you freak!' I had even reached up to touch my face. There was indeed a great smile on my lips.

When Bryn heard about the killing from Vex, he looked at me no differently. He actually walked over and hugged me, telling me it had probably been a terrible experience. By then, he didn't know about my mother and father. The next time it happened, Vipir had told Bryn about the killing, and I told him everything. When he still didn't seem to change his opinion about me, I was surprised. But glad. He stood by me every time I faltered from the path, every time I wanted to kill.

But I failed him again. I killed the girl in the courtyard, with no intention of even approaching her. I hadn't felt my blade on anyone in such a long time… it… burst out of me. Her neck was exposed, her flesh so tempting and clean, not a scar... It was prettier with one. She must have only been twenty when I killed her, but I have no doubt in my mind that she would be a lovely young corpse, lost amongst the old nords in the Hall of the Dead.

I had been walking for what seemed like forever when I finally reached the carriage. I was far from my homeland, but I knew the proper place to rob this carriage blind would be just inside of Skyrim. If I did it here, I would be caught for sure. I followed the carriage back to Skyrim for days, waiting at a distance before it passed through the gates. But when I reached the gates, it all fell apart.

* * *

I lifted my aching head, the heavy clops of a horse were deafening to my waking ears.

"Hey you, you're finally awake." A large nord sat, bound as I was, He had thick, dirty yellow locks. "You were caught trying to cross the border, right?" He spoke loudly, my head was ringing. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." The nord motioned to the dark hair lad to his right, who spat on the carriage floor, angry.

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along… Empire was nice and lazy… If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell… You there" The dark haired nord turned to face me. "We shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks that the empire wants!" his voice was hoarse and winded, he had probably been cursing and houting the whole time I had been out. The strong nord in front of me shook his head.

"We are all brothers in binds now, thief." The carriage driver growled and shouted back at us to shut up, he was wearing imperial armor. This sounded like a final warning, but the theif didn't shut it. He glanced over beside me. "What's his problem?" I looked over to see a golden-haired nord with a gag over his mouth. His gaze was far from defeated, but I could tell he was tired. The strong nord's brows went down.

"You watch your tongue! This is Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" He shouted, protecting the honor of his leader.

"Ulfric Stormcloak? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion…. But wait… If they've caught you… oh gods! Where are they taking us?" the dark haired nord visibly shook with fear. The blonde nord hung his head by his shoulders.

"I don't know where they are taking us… but Sovngarde awaits…"


End file.
